


It's Never Dysentery

by Gleennui



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Oregon Trail, Sickfic, it's never dysentery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: Puck and Finn have the intestinal plague. Rachel tries to take them back to pioneer days.





	

“I think I’m dying. Actually dying. And I don’t even have my affairs in order!” Finn whines and flails his legs toward Puck.

“Hey! Watch it! And you don’t have any affairs to get in order, dude. We could fit all our stuff in your trunk and I’m pretty sure your mom knows what kind of funeral you want.” Puck huffs into his pillow. “And besides, you’re not dying. _I’m_ dying.”

“Maybe we’re both dying. If we are, Kurt’s going to be pissed at what we’re wearing when they find us.”

“Yeah,” Puck sniffs his tshirt and makes a face. “We could use showers. And a change of sheets. And--” He rolls over and eyes the jug of Gatorade sitting on Finn’s desk. “something to drink that’s not orange.”

“But I _like_ the orange,” Finn pouts. “It’s the best flavor!”

“Yeah, except it’s all I can smell now. I think it’s coming out my pores.” Puck pulls himself into a sitting position and rubs his eyes. “You think we’re still running fevers?”

Finn frowns and leans over the edge of his bed, coming back up with a thermometer. “This is probably not full of floor germs,” he says, and flops back down on his pillow. “You first.”

Puck shrugs. “Probably doesn’t matter. We can’t get sicker.” He slides the thermometer under his tongue and exhales loudly out his nose.  They really are disgusting, but he’s sure that neither of them has the energy to do much about it. They’ve already wasted their entire spring break running from their room to the bathroom, with Gatorade and saltine breaks in between.

Puck doesn’t realize he’s drifting off until the thermometer’s beeping snaps him awake. 100.5. Still. He sighs and hands it to Finn, who sticks the probe in his own mouth and grumbles. With a groan, Puck rolls himself over Finn and into an approximate standing position on the floor.

“We’re going to shower,” Puck says, and it sounds a lot more definitive in his head than it does out loud. Finn’s nose wrinkles as the thermometer beeps, and Puck peeks at it. 101.3. “Yeah. Definitely. A nice cool shower.”

Finn whines in response, kicking his legs out again. “But it’s _freezing_ , Puck. “Cool” is a big fat lie. Why do you _lie_ to me all the time?!”

“I know. I’m awful,” Puck finds two clean towels on the bottom of his closet and holds his hand out for Finn. “But I’ll make it worth your while.” He tries to waggle his eyebrows at Finn, but that makes his head hurt, so he winks instead.

“ _Fine_.” Finn peeks up at Puck and does at least grin and take Puck’s hand, hauling himself to his feet. Puck stumbles back, and both of them teeter for a minute before finding their balance and trudging to the shower, Puck clutching their Old Spice 3-in-1 in his free hand.

Finn’s not wrong; the shower is ice cold. But the dorm is mostly empty for break, so they can at least complain about it as loud as they want, which does help. And Puck didn’t lie; he does try to make it worth Finn’s while. But the fever and the dehydration and the fact that the water feels like tiny icicles means that Finn just ends up shrugging sheepishly and pulling Puck’s hand away after what feels to Puck like a half hour of uncoordinated stroking. Puck does let Finn wash his hair, though, which feels way better than he thought it would and gives him a few minutes to lean against the shower wall with his eyes closed.

When they get back in the room, Puck looks forlornly at the Gatorade but takes a swig anyway, gagging down a few crackers with it before handing the bottle to Finn, who still looks weirdly eager to drink it.

“We can’t get back on those sheets,” Puck says, already tugging at the bedspread. The effort is making him a little dizzy.

“Uh, dude, I’m pretty sure I could sleep on anything right now.” Puck looks up at Finn, who does look like he could drop where he’s standing. Neither of them have eaten anything more than crackers in three days, but Finn looks especially gaunt and gray.

“I know, but _I_ want you to sleep on clean sheets. With me.” Puck wrinkles his nose at a suspicious-looking stain. “Wait, do we _have_ clean sheets?”

“M’dunno,” Finn mumbles, and Puck hears him fall into a chair. “Wake me up when it’s safe to sleep on the bed.”

Puck finishes stripping the bed, as quickly as he can considering the fact that he’s starting to think Finn might be onto something, but when he looks in their drawers, the only sheets he can find have holes in them.

“Probably shouldn’t have made those ghost costumes,” he mutters to himself. “No one was even scared.”

Puck sighs to himself and sinks down into the desk chair opposite Finn, who’s started snoring, his face propped up on his hand. They need clean sheets--and probably some real food and another flavor of Gatorade--but Burt and Carole are in Lexington and Puck’s mom is working second shift. Puck briefly considers taking his bike over to Finn’s house, but as he’s thinking about it, his stomach makes an unfortunate gurgling noise and he has to run to the bathroom.

On his slow trudge back, Puck wars with himself. Kurt’s in town, if what he’s been complaining about on Facebook for weeks is accurate, and he probably has use of one of the Hudmels’ cars. He would probably even know which sheets to bring that won’t give Finn that weird rash he had the semester they bought sheets at the Big Lots. On the other hand, Puck knows Kurt would probably turn up his nose at the idea of bringing anything to them at their non-fancy dorm room after they’ve both been sick for days.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Puck grabs his phone on the way to sit back down at his desk, already exhausted.

“Who’re you calling?” Finn cracks an eye open to stare dubiously at Puck’s phone.

“Your brother. We need sheets and food and non-orange things to drink.”

Finn makes a strangled whining noise. “But he’s going to judge our room. Remember at mom’s birthday dinner when you said we lived in a dorm? He made a face like something smelled bad!”

“Yeah,” Puck hmphs, “But at least this time that won’t be a lie.” He scrolls to Kurt’s number and hits the green button, slumping down in his chair.

“Noah? Is that you? Oh, we were just talking about you! Kurt and I were going to go over to McKinley so I could give a motivational speech to the seniors about dreams coming true! Only, I can’t find my autograph pen, so we’re stopping at Hallmark first so I can purchase a new one and you could come with us! To McKinley, I mean, not Hallmark. Oh, unless you needed a candle for your room? Kurt mentioned that it was in the basement.”

“Rachel?”

“I know, you probably didn’t expect to hear my voice, but Kurt’s driving and when I saw that it was you, I just had to answer it! Of course I’m sure you heard that my contract got renewed, so I don’t blame you for being surprised that I’m in town, but I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to speak at my alma mater. After all, it _is_ where I got my start.”

“Rachel,” Puck runs his hand over his face and is distantly aware of Finn muttering ‘no no no’ across the room. “Finn and I are really sick and we need Kurt to bring us some things from Carole and Burt’s.”

“Oh!” Puck can hear Rachel clucking her tongue. “What are your symptoms? My dad once thought he had a cold but it ended up being scarlet fever! Do you have a red rash on your arms?”

“It’s just an intestinal bug or something. Can I talk to Kurt?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m so sorry you won’t be able to join me for my presentation, but you’ll have to come see me in New York soon! I can get you tickets at 25% off!”

Puck looks over at Finn, who’s gesturing as wildly as he can, given how pale he is. There’s some muffled talking on the other end and what sounds like someone dropping the phone before Puck hears a voice again.

“Puck?”

Puck exhales and gives Finn a thumbs-up.

“Hey, Kurt, look, I promise I’ll make it up to you but can you bring me and Finn some things from Carole and your dad’s house?”

“I don’t see why I can’t swing back over there after I drop Rachel off.”  Puck can hear Rachel making some increasingly high-pitched noises of protest in the background.. He rolls his eyes to Finn, who pulls his shirt over his head at the sound.

“Are you at school?” When Kurt comes back on the line, he sounds frazzled. Puck would smirk but he’s feeling woozy and his stomach’s starting to make the gurgle noise again, so he just sighs.

“Yeah, we’re in our room. We’re both really sick and we need clean bedding and food and maybe some pop. Your brother’s fever is worse than mine, so how about Advil, too?”

“Oh.” Kurt clears his throat loud enough for Puck to hear. “Are you--is it contagious? I mean, I hope you’re not sick for much longer. Because of midterms.”

This time, Puck rolls his eyes so hard they hurt. “You can leave everything outside the room. Thanks, Kurt.” He tosses the phone on the bed and follows it, grabbing Finn by the arm on the way. They curl up on the mattress, Puck wrapped around Finn’s back, and Puck closes his eyes. A five-minute nap won’t hurt.   


“But I have to tell them my theory! What if they need medical attention right away?”

Puck blinks his eyes open and groans. He can tell by how relaxed Finn feels that he’s still asleep, so Puck crawls around Finn and shuffles to the door.

“Kurt?”

Kurt sighs loud enough for Puck to hear through the door. “And Rachel. As you no doubt heard. We’re just leaving, believe me. Everything’s in a bag outside the door. Feel free to wait until we’re gone to open it.”

Puck squints an eye at the peephole. Kurt has the collar of his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, and he’s leaning as far back as he can without falling over. Rachel, on the other hand, is peering up at the peephole, pretty obviously up on her toes.

“Noah? Noah are you still there? I think I know what’s wrong with you!”

Finn makes a groaning noise behind Puck.

“Why am I hearing Rachel’s voice?” his voice is muffled, and when Puck turns around, he can barely make out the bottom of Finn’s chin under his pillow.

“They’re just leaving. I’ll be back in just a second with your Advil.” Puck’s talking to Finn, in theory, but Rachel just gets louder on the other side of the door.

“But Noah! I can’t leave until I tell you what’s wrong with you!”

Puck props his arm up against the door and leans his head on it. The room is starting to spin again, and the bed looks so warm. He just wants to put some sheets on it and get medicine into Finn so maybe he can wake up feeling a little better.

“Fine,” Puck manages weakly. “But you have to tell me _quietly_ or I’m coming out there and breathing on both of you.”

“Rachel!” Kurt squawks. “Can we _please_ just leave?”

“In a minute! Noah, listen.” Puck winces. He thinks Rachel thinks she’s whispering, but if anything, she’s even louder. “I’ve been researching this, and I believe you and Finn have _dysentery_.”

No one says anything for what feels like a really long time. Puck just blinks at the door, wondering if he’s having a fever dream again, because it’s not possible Rachel just said they have the Oregon Trail disease.

“Did Rachel just say we had dysentery? Like the ‘you died of dysentery’ thing?” Finn’s voice is still muffled under the pillow, but he sounds more alarmed than amused.

“Yeah, she did. Like the game on your mom’s old computer. But she’s _wrong_ and she’s leaving now.” Puck starts to turn the doorknob. He can hear Kurt make a shrieking noise and then footsteps running away from the door. When Puck opens the door, Rachel’s still standing on the other side.

“Now, Noah, I’m quite sure this is one of the diseases I’m immune to, due to my excellent genetics and my dads’ careful exposure when I was a child. I have the latest medical studies right here, and if you’ll just let me, I could--”

Puck grabs the bag and shuts the door in one move. It’s more energy than he’s put out in days, and he’s a little winded by the time he gets back to the bed, dragging the bag on the ground.

“Chair again. Sorry, man.” Puck rubs the part of Finn’s arm he can reach, ignoring Rachel’s hissed “Noah!”s. Finn groans and rolls himself off the bed more than stands up. Puck helps him back into the desk chair and makes himself put fresh sheets on the bed.

The gurgling’s starting again by the time Puck has the top sheet on, so he leaves the comforter off for now and rifles through the rest of what Kurt brought. He doesn’t hear anything from outside the door anymore, so he puts the Advil and pop on the desk next to Finn and chances running to the bathroom.

Just as he thought, there’s no Rachel in sight, and Puck exhales. This trip to the bathroom feels like less of an emergency than the last 25, so Puck counts that as a win. He wonders what Rachel would say about that, and he briefly considers sending her details of his bowel movements as punishment for waking Finn up from his nap. He abandons the idea when he realizes she’d probably start charting them.

Finn’s asleep in the chair again when Puck comes back. Puck nudges Finn’s cheek until Finn’s awake enough to take his four Advil, and then he hauls both of them back into bed. Puck’s feeling really hot again, so the top sheet is more than enough. He’s just about drifted off when he hears Finn mumble.

“Did Rachel _really_  say we had the pioneer disease?”

Puck tries snorting but it hurts his head, so he just pats Finn’s arm. “Yeah, she’s something.”

“Are we going to die?”

“What, eventually? Yeah. Because of this? Probably not.” Puck presses his face against Finn’s neck. “We don’t have any oxen and we don’t have to shoot our own food, either.”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Finn sounds half-asleep now. “I was really bad at archery in gym.”

“I remember.” Puck mumbles. “And aren’t oxen kind of really big cows? I don’t know how to take care of cows.”

“Me either!” Finn sounds offended, even though Puck’s pretty sure he’s talking in his sleep now. “Why would I know anything about cows?”

“See, so no one’s got oxen, no one’s shooting buffalo, and no one’s dying of dysentery.”

“‘M telling Rachel about the cows in the morning.” Finn clenches his fists against Puck’s back. “‘M telling her she’s _wrong_ about my cow abilities.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that. We’ll do that.” Puck yawns. “But now we sleep. And if I dream about fording the river, I’m never talking to her again.”   



End file.
